Suicidal
by enamoreddoggo
Summary: Heather Hampton is found dead, the life sucked out of her. The police write it off as another case of suicide, but her friends know better. As they plunge further into the case of Heather's death, they find it hard to swim out or remember who they used to be. Was it murder? An accident? Or was she just... suicidal? EDIT: REWRITTEN ON AO3 UNDER heatherswig !
1. chapter one : pilot

_[ disclaimer : i do not own any of these characters. they belong to their rightful owners and creators. ]_

_[ warning : this chapter contains topics such as colorful language, violence, suicide (and/or murder). **you have been warned. reading after this warning and reading something that makes you feel uneasy is on you. **]_

_was it murder? an accident? or was she just..._

**SUICIDAL**

_five hours before the incident _

Courtney Castillo-Rodriguez and her best friend Heather Hampton were walking down the sidewalk of their preppy neighborhood. The girls were neighbors for as long as they could remember and were inseparable ever since their first play date at age 5. There they were, more than a decade later, walking to their prison known to others as Wawanakwa High.

Heather was filing her nails as they walked, chewing her fresh mint gum as she talked. With every word she spoke, a simple scratching noise came from her nail file.

"At the party, make sure Geoff sneaks in some beer or weed. These days house parties are boring without the classic game of beer ping pong." Heather states. She takes a pause, admiring her handiwork on her nails. When she was satisfied, she drops her nail file on the side of the sidewalk. She continues. "We'll have to clean out the guest rooms tonight, you never know how horny the dweebs at school are. This has to beat Leshawna Owusua's party from December, got it?"

Courtney nodded, only half-listening. Everyday since January, her best friend had brought up her rival's party. Though she would never admit it, Leshawna's party was off the hook, and because of that, Heather was determined to squash the sister. However, Courtney looked up from her phone for a quick second.

"Say, did we take care of the guest list?" The Hispanic girl asks. Heather slaps her forehead with embarrassment, completely missing the most important thing a party needs; guests.

"Of course there's you, Alejandro, Geoff, Bridgette," the platter says, lifting a finger for each person. Courtney doesn't say a thing until Heather mentions a certain delinquent.

"You're inviting the n_eanderthal?_" Courtney exclaims, aghast. Heather lifts a single brow at her friend's sudden outburst, then laughs.

"Oh, that's right! I forgot you had a thing for Duncan," Heather practically yells, choking on her own laughter. Despite the breeze filling the air, Courtney's cheeks were still flaming red. With anger, embarrassment, or a simple blush was hard to tell.

"Liking... _Duncan?_" The CIT could barely get the words out. How dare she even _insinuate _something that ridiculous! "Duncan and I? Right, as if. I'm so sure. Not in a million years, puh-lease, when pigs fly-" Courtney could continue all day, that was, before she was interrupted.

"Okay, okay, Court, I get it." Heather says, her laughter dying down. "You're just still in denial about your love-hate relationship-" Heather doesn't finish her sentence before bursting into a fit of giggles. Courtney rolls her eyes, but can't help chuckling alongside with her best friend. Their laughing is cut short when they are interrupted by a loud honk.

"Yo dudes!" They are greeted by Geoff's loud and welcoming voice. Bridgette waved at them, right next to him in the passenger seat. Alejandro, in the back seat, winks in Heather's direction, to which she smirks and rolls her eyes, and grins in Courtney's direction, a friendly gesture to one of his close friends. Heather sits between the two Hispanics, and as soon as the two girls buckle in, Geoff speeds towards school, passing by the greenery in Heather and Courtney's neighborhood

Despite the ten minute ride being short, the five friends laugh and joke around as the car travels down the road. They laugh at about everything and nothing, from the time Bridgette and Geoff made out under their principal's desk, to the time when they were 13 and played Spin the Bottle with the entire grade, remembering when Heather had to kiss the geek Harold, to which Heather still went as red as Harold's hair at the memory.

None of them knew that in a few hours, their lives would come crashing down.

. . .

_an hour before the incident_

Duncan was mentally counting down until lunch, the 45 minute period where he could wreck havoc with his best buds DJ and Geoff. However, there was still half an hour until that bell rang, which he despised. Sure, he _could _ditch, but then he wouldn't be able to get under the skin of a certain preppy CIT.

"Duncan, could you go grab the microscope?" Courtney asked, annoyed by the delinquent's antics. Duncan opened one of his two closed eyes, pleased to see the former's ticked off face at his feet kicked up on the table.

"I don't know, princess, right now my schedule is pretty busy," he says smoothly in response. Immediately, she pipes back up at him.

"Oh really?" The mocha-colored girl challenges, her eyes narrowed, shooting daggers. Normally, this expression would make anyone go running, but it just amused Duncan. "Your schedule is filled with what, being unpleasant and a criminal?"

Duncan pauses, and looks up at the ceiling as if mentally checking his to-do list. He then grins, much to Courtney's displeasure. "Pretty much, yeah."

Courtney groans. "I hate you," she says dramatically, getting up to get the microscope herself. Duncan chuckles, leaning back and clamping his hands on the back of his neck. "She _so_ doesn't hate me,"

Behind their lab table, sat DJ Kennedy and Geoff Brooks. Geoff smiles, looking at his friends in front of him, who didn't seem to realize they liked each other. No matter how much they denied it, it was clear they had the hots for the other. DJ and Geoff looked at each other knowingly, smirking at each other. They continue their lab project, but are interrupted by a loud burp and fart combo, performed by Owen Davies. Said person chuckles as all eyes turn to him. "Hehe, sorry guys!" He says nervously, playing with his hands.

Next to him, his partner Izzy Carter, gasps in amazement. "Wow, that was so cool! At my last family-reunion, my great-uncle-twice-removed farted and burped at the same time, which made the lemonade fall on my cousin-twice-removed, which caused a civil war between my family with Nerf guns, and we accidentally sent my Pops to the ER, but it's fine, he just lost an eye-" Izzy continues rambling at a fast pace, with only Owen really caring or listening. Noah Sharma, the smartass of the grade, could be heard mumbling "She'll be sent to the asylum if she keeps talking about her twice removed family,".

Meanwhile, at the front of the classroom, BFFFLs Sadie Brown and Katie Jones were giggling and practically drooling over Justin Phillips, the dumb but hot Eye Candy. He was trying to figure out how a microscope worked, with Lindsay Moore chiming in with unhelpful instructions whilst playing with a small braid on the back of her head. Despite this, the skinny tan girl and her pale Asian friend were still just as lovestruck.

Near the center of the room, two sets of duos struck to work. Harold Davinski and his not-so-secret crush Leshawna Owusua were making progress on their project, unlike most of their peers. Leshawna was determined, and Harold was just as determined to make Leshawna happy. Next to them, however, was Cody West and Sierra Pierce. She leaned close to her partner, trying to discreetly grab a strand of hair from his head. However, she got distracted quickly and was emersed in his scent. Next to her, Cody looked very uncomfortable. "Uh, Sierra? Could you try and giving me some, um, space?" He asked nervously, chuckling after his words tumbled out of his mouth. Sierra nodded eagerly, took a giant step back, but continued looking directly at Cody instead of in their microscope. Cody gulped.

Not far away from those interesting duos, was yet another set of partners, more odd than any of the others. There sat Eva Allen and Ezekiel Tryniski, a duo of rejects who had nothing to do with each other. Eva kept on yelling at the farm boy. "You live on a farm, eh? Then how about you _GROW SOME BRAINS AND WORK ON THE PROJECT?!_" She looked like anything could set her off to strangling the prairie reject. Ezekiel gulped, and immediately got down to business. However, he knew in his head that he better do it so a girl's dimwits won't get them a failing grade.

Beth Anderson, to her discomfort, was partnered with the horrible Heather Hampton. Beth _despised _her; girls like Heather got everything they wanted just by manipulating people. Despite promising herself she wouldn't fall for it, Beth couldn't help but do everything Heather wanted. She just couldn't say no.

"Hey, Bitch, is it?" Heather asks mockingly. "Go do our assignment, and quickly. Can't have that cow Leshawna and her gross weave finish first." Heather scoffs. "If only I was with someone useful, someone who actually had a brain. Then _I _wouldn't be here doing all the work."

Beth held her breath. She was seething, her anger bubbling in her, threatening to explode. She tried counting to ten, quickly and silently in her head, but Heather had crossed the line. Slowly and furiously, Beth spoke words she was sure she would regret. "My name is Beth, you're the one who's name is bitch,". Despite the fact Beth was talking just above a whisper, everyone heard and gasped at her words. Leshawna whoops from her table. "Slaughter her, Beth! Woohoo!" Gwen Willow smiles, she can't help it.

Before Heather or her beau Alejandro could get a word in, Beth continues, engulfed in rage and sorrow. "I am tired of being your slave," she announces. Heather, regaining herself, narrows her eyes. If looks could kill, Beth would be reduced to ashes. "Take it back," she says venomously, clearly not taking no as an answer.

"No." Gasps echo through the room.

"You are _NOTHING _without me!" Heather exclaims, losing control.

"Do you know why we keep failing?" Beth asks, ignoring Heather's statement and the stares from her classmates. It's because you're so busy being mean, you don't even try! And all you can think of is bossing me around!" At this, Heather gasps and grabs a small magnifying glass on their table. She throws it with all her might, anger, and frustration bottled inside her, but it bounces off of Beth's chin. "Oh, that's it!" Beth says, reaching over to grab her notebook. "Bring it, you skeeze!" Heather announces, gesturing her hands toward her.

"I am giving you one last chance," Heather says slowly and dangerously, as if talking to a child she did not like. "Why?" Beth questions. "Because you know you can't pass without me?"

"I can make your life _MISERABLE HERE!_" Heather screeches. If she could, Heather would be on fire, and set Beth aflame. In response, Beth yells "You already _do, _Miss _BITCH!_" Beth spits out. "Besides, what do _I_ have to lose?"

"FINE! Be all alone then, _loser_!"

"Ohhhh, that's _IT!_" Beth screams readying her notebook.

Just as Beth is about to throw her notebook, two voices rang out through the crowd. Bridgette Taylor and Trent Franklin, the peacekeepers of the class, step between the girls. "Just because Mr. Johnson is asleep-"

"_-Again-_" Noah grumbles.

"-Doesn't mean chaos has to unfold." Courtney finishes, stepping with Bridgette and Trent. Someone boos in the crowd, and everyone looks in the direction which it came from.

Duncan smirks smugly in his seat. "Come on, Princess, take the pole out of your ass and watch the fight unfold. It'll be fun to see Beth be whipped by Heather in 7 seconds, give or take."

Courtney smiles forcefully. Silently, she walks over to Duncan and swiftly kicks her leg in his unmentionables. He moans and winces, and falls over. To finish it off, she grabs her own pencil case and knocks him over the head with it. Her smile becomes less and less fake.

She turns to the others. "Come on, Heath, the period's almost over and you don't want to be late because you were busy kicking ass." Heather sighs. She rolls her eyes, kicks Beth to the ground, and pins her there with her leg. "This isn't over," she says, just above a whisper. "To hell with you,". With that said, she turns away, and struts to the lunchroom, the class parting for her and leaving Beth to collect their belongings.

. . .

_lunch : the incident_

Alejandro walked into the noisy cafeteria. Without a second glance st his peers, he strutted straight to their table in the center of the cafeteria and everything. Already there were Geoff, DJ and Duncan. The three friends were laughing at a video of Duncan placing Harold Davinski's hand in a cup of water, whilst asleep, to slowly watch his trousers become wetter. They howled with laughter every time it happened, and replayed the video over, and over, and over again of the dork's raspy voice shouting "_IDIOTS"_ and swearing vengeance upon them. None of the three noticed Alejandro sit across from them.

Not even a minute after the Hispanic had sat down, the other Hispanic companion had joined them. Courtney came with a smile on her face, that quickly turned into a a scowl when she saw her least favorite neanderthal occupy the seat across from her. She immediately turned to Geoff to complain. "Geoff, I thought we talked about this!" She exclaims, capturing the attention of the four teenagers. She took a deep breath, calming herself down, before she made a scene. "Please, next time you invite DJ and the delinquent to sit with us, just run it by us?"

"Of course, Court," Geoff said with a smile that would win over anyone, which DJ and Duncan were quick to replicate. Courtney just shook her head, placed her beloved phone in front of her seat, and walked up to get in the lunch line. The four boys watched her. Once the CIT was no longer in their presence, the four boys all whooped and patted the green-mohawked teen on the back.

"I think she's warming up to you, bro!" Geoff exclaimed, an excited grin plastered on his face.

"That is, if you forget about what happened in science today," Alejandro chuckled.

"That's right, she just _destroyed _you, dude," DJ said, smiling. However, his grin quickly washes away with a concerned look that one couldn't tell was sincere or not. "Do your kiwis still hurt?" In response to this, everyone (excluding Duncan) howled with laughter. Once their laughter dies down just a little bit, Duncan mutters just above an audible tone, "Yeah, a little bit," to which everyone loses their shit.

Bridgette walks in the room, and puts her packed lunch directly next to Courtney's belongings. She smiles at the boys sitting around her. "What's so funny?" She asks, curious. Before the boys can answer (truthfully or otherwise), Courtney comes back, lunch tray in hand. She had the high quality burgers the school served and fries to go along with it. She had a paper cup of ketchup with it, and fresh milk straight out of the fridge alongside her meal. However, before she can make it to her lunch table, she and her meal fall over when the stampeding crowd of students start dashing outside, drawn by some scene outside.

"Maybe we should find out what's happening?" Bridgette suggests, her voice making it a question. Courtney, who had recomposed herself, frowned at the mess her lunch made. Thankfully, none had landed on her. Tearing her eyes away from her old lunch, she nods. "Guess we should."

As soon as they stepped foot on the courtyard, they regretted it. They should have stayed inside.

Because there, on the ground, students swarming around her, was Heather Hampton. The Queen B. The It-Girl. The one everyone wanted to be. There she was, dead.

. . . **tbc**

_Aftermath :_

_well, that wraps that up! i cannot wait to post the next chapter, i have **many** plans for this story! however, before i can continue, there are some things to address :_

_heather dying is no vendetta against her. she is definitely one of my favorite characters, but with that said, she was the only one who fit the criteria for the one who would die in the beginning. i am planning on writing plenty of flashback scenes /or chapters so you still have heather's refreshing sarcasm. _

_majority of the characters last names are chosen because they fit well with the name. [or in alejandro's case, they have a canon last name. (which translates to dead donkey i'm-)] however, before i got lazy, i did make three character's last names based off of their confirmed nationality. _

_courtney castillo-rodriguez - **castillo** translating to **castle** (a play on the princess nickname) and **rodriguez** to **powerful** (which she undoubtedly is.) _

_noah sharma - **sharma** translating to **comfort**, which he would put before another's benefit. despite this, i love noah. (as i love every other character)_

_leshawna owusua - **owusua** translating to **strong-willed and determined**, which leshawna wins the crown for. _

_i got lazy with everyone else, sorry! however, i think everyone's last names suit them or at least sound decent with them. _

_also i think you may be wondering why i chose my popular people to be who they are. my reasoning i hope is appropriate._

_heather - queen b and admired. shouldn't really come as a shock. _

_alejandro - hot, charming, and the popular girl's beau_

_courtney - athletic, involved, preppy, and, let's face it, great bod_

_geoff - party-goer who is liked and who is mostly chill._

_bridgette - the nice girl who everyone loves. also very pretty_

_some characters, such as gwen and duncan, are loved and popular by the fanbase, but as their highschool stereotypes, they may be well liked but wouldn't have a reserved seat at the popular table. however, as **certain** characters move closer to the others hearts, they will get a seat at the table and as a main character - sure you can guess at least three characters. _

_finally, alejandro and tyler didn't appear in the science class only because i couldn't exactly fit them in. this was intentional, i did not forget my bbys ._

_with that said, i hope you are excited for where this story is headed! i sure am. _

_with love,_

_z :)_


	2. chapter two : gone, baby, gone

_[ discalimer : i do not own any of these chatacters. they belong to their rightful owners and creators. ]_

_[ warning : this chapter includes colorful language, violence, suicide (and/or murder). **you have been warned. reading after this warning and reading something that makes you uneasy is on you. **]_

_was it murder? an accident? or was she just... _

**SUICIDAL**

Upon the entry of Heather's closest friends, all gasping, crying and whispering come to a cease. The silence was so thin that you could cut it with a knife. The world seemed to have stopped.

Then came Courtney's loud, heartbreaking shriek."What the hell happened to her? Why is no one helping her? What the fuck, she can't be... dead!" She yells, whirling her head around to look at the crowd. No one looks her in the eye, not wanting to be the one to ruin her life. When the word "dead" escapes her mouth, the Hispanic falls to her knees. Tears escape her eyes. Soon, she's full on sobbing. Her cries are heart wrenching and full of all the love she had for Heather. Every ounce of strength and heartbreak are expressed within her tears. Through her cries, she shakingly gets up, sitting next to Heather. She tucks her hair behind the deceased body's ear, trying to be strong, but breaks down once again.

She clutches onto Heather. Courtney stays there, crying still, cuddling dead best friend, as if she would escape from death's grip. As if she would wake up. As if she wasn't dead.

For a long time, for an eternity, the only sound that echoes outside the school is Courtney's crying. Her wails become louder and it doesn't seem that she would be stopping anytime soon. Finally, someone approached her.

They tear her away from the deceased Asian's body, slowly but surely. Her Hispanic companion refuses to leave her best friend's side. "Let _GO _of me!" She screams. The onyx-eyed girl struggles to escape from the person's grasp, so three more people run up to hold her down. Courtney punches them with every strength in her, until her arms hurt from lifting her fist, until her knuckles are white with a droplet of blood among them, until Courtney can't seem to yell anymore. Instead, she grabs onto the person who had first grabbed her, and cried into their shoulder. She didn't notice or care who it was.

She didn't notice the green mohawk or the skull on his shirt. She didn't recognize the voice gently whispering sweet nothings into her ear, trying to comfort her. She didn't notice the broad arms that embraced her. She didn't notice the stares that she received for letting her worst enemy cuddle up to her.

Courtney no longer cared. She didn't give a shit about what they thought. Courtney Castillo-Rodriguez would never be the same. After all, what mattered anymore when her other half was gone?

. . . 

While Courtney slowly lost control, all Alejandro thought was the same sentence running through his head, over and over again; "_This can't be real,_". After he had helped pull Courtney away from Heather's body with the help of Duncan, Geoff and DJ, he kneeled down next to his dead beau. He stroked her face, shutting her eyes one last time."If only we had more time, _reina_," he says softly, closing his eyes as well. He tightened his hand around her wrist, feeling no pulse, which was disappointing but not surprising. He intertwines his fingers with Heather's cold and clammy ones, studying her one last time. The last time he would lay eyes on her beautiful face. Her now-closed eyes were glazed over, and she had a large gash on the side of her head, where blood had flooded out. Her body was in a limp and awkward position, as if she had fell. Alejandro looked up toward the clear blue sky, ironic for such a sad moment. His eyes landed on the rooftop, where no fence had been installed to prevent and incident like, say, a student falling to their death happening. Alejandro mentally curses Principal McLean for putting style before safety of his teenage students.

Alejandro gets up, leaving his lover behind in the clutches of death. He walks away, swearing he would avenge her death.

He walks away as if he was perfectly fine.

. . . 

Bridgette and Geoff looked at the scene in front of them in horror. Geoff hugs Bridgette as she cries. They are quiet but depressed. As if there's no hope left. She plays with the bracelet on her own wrist, spinning it around on her hand. She had got it in the sixth grade, but still, as a senior, it was always on her person.

She tears herself away from Geoff, running to Heather. With tears in her eyes, her voice shaking, she spikes to the body.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I wish you weren't gone. I wish you could live. I wish we could be kids again. You won't be forgotten. We'll find out who did this, I swear." Bridgette stops again, unable to continue. She looks to the sky, then back to the corpse. "Rest easy, Heath. We love you." Choking on her sobs, she turns away to Geoff. Geoff looks sadly at his dead friend. He raises his face, and instead of whooping, he bows his head down, looking somber, as if giving respect. "Party on in heaven, dudette." He and Bridgette walk away, arms wrapping around each other, following Alejandro.

. . .

Alejandro, Bridgette, Courtney, DJ, Duncan and Geoff leave the courtyard, unable to look anymore. They feel guilty leaving, like they're disappointing Heather, but they head to the rooftop. As they head up, they see Leshawna Owusua in a position indicating she was just on the roof.

"Leshawna." Alejandro says icily, immediately suspicious. "What are you doing?" Leshawna turns, surprised. "Well I was just heading up to the roof. Mr. Johnson held me back in class to help clean up the lab when _you _all made a mess-" she pauses to give a dirty look to them, but raises an eyebrow. "Say, where's _queenie_ here? Isn't she tight with you all?" At the mention of his deceased lover, who he would never see or hear again, Alejandro lunges at the girl. Leshawna yelps and moves out of the way.

She gives him a nasty look. "Now what was that for?" She asks. Alejandro takes deep breaths, wanting to yell at her, but DJ's soft and sad voice interrupts him. "She's gone," he says, his eyes tearing up. "And she's not coming back." Leshawna looks confused. "So you're all tripping because she left for the day? For real? Relax, she probably just has a cavity. She'll be fine."

Courtney shakes her head, peeling herself from Duncan's embrace. "She fell off the roof. Or jumped, no one knows. Maybe pushed." She takes a pause, thinking which one was more likely. She continues. "She's dead. Her body's outside. You can go see if you don't believe us. Now if you'll excuse us, we want to go to the rooftop to mourn." Leshawna seems unable to speak. She moves out of the way, but looks back to them, her face painted with sorrow and pity. "I'm sorry. I know y'all were close," with that said, she left.

When the teenagers reached the rooftop, they expected it to be isolated and quiet. To their surprise, their principal and three police officers occupied the space.

"Yeah, there's no security footage. The only logical explanation is suicide," one police officer says. Principal Chris McLean frowns. "She _seemed_ fine," he says somewhat defensively. "She had everything someone would want. Riches, popularity status, friends, a huge house..." he lists, tapping a different finger for each thing.

The police hold a finger up to silence the middle-aged man. "Just because someone seems fine or has lots of things doesn't mean their depression isn't less important." McLean rubs his temples, not wanting this conversation to go on longer. He nods, turning around to head back inside to dismiss the kids surrounding the corpse of Heather Hampton. However, his eyes land on the six teenagers in front of him. He pauses.

"I'm sorry for your kids' loss. She was far too young." He says, shaking his head sadly.

Geoff pipes up. "Who did this to her, man?" He asks, concerned.

Chris looks Geoff in the eye. "Looks like she did this to herself." With that said, he brushes past them briskly down the stairs, the officers hot on their trail.

"I need to make some phone calls," they hear him say. "All of those kid's parents and the dead one's parents. This won't be easy."

. . .

_ten minutes later_

The class files down to their math class, sitting in their assigned seats. There is a silence.

Ms. Grace speaks first. "The staff has to attend a meeting in regards of the... _incident_." She says slowly and carefully, avoiding Courtney and Alejandro's gaze. She continues. "There will be no sub present. Most of you are 17-18, I hope you know not to be disrespectful during this time." She walks to the door, belongings already in hand, but hesitates. She turns to the class one last time. "Take care. It'll be okay." She gives a sad smile to the class, before quickly exiting the room.

The class is quiet for a moment, unsure what to do.

Courtney looks at the empty seat next to her, where her best friend used to occupy. Before she can stop it, she starts crying again. Quietly, this time, silent for the loss of Heather. Duncan immediately rises out of his seat next to Tyler and is quick to comfort the CIT. The class watches in shock, not even an _hour _ago they hated each other; now the delinquent seemed to be the only one with the ability to calm her down.

A silence falls among them again. Then, Leshawna, of all people, speaks. "What do you think happened to her?" All eyes fly to Heather's closest friends. To everyone's shock, Courtney, the one who hadn't said a lot, replies. "They say she did this to herself," she whispers, closing her eyes and shaking her head slowly.

"Don't you think she would have told you guys? She was vocal about how she felt and was closest to you all." Gwen questions. Everyone is somewhat curious to hear the answer.

"I think so," Bridgette says. "I hope so."

Beth shakes her head. "When people are depressed, they usually don't speak about their problems, thinking they're unimportant. She could have very well been drowning in depression, to afraid to call for help. No one responds, unsure how to reply. To everyone's horror, Izzy starts _laughing. _Everyone stares at her in shock, until Trent can't help but ask "What's so funny?" She stops laughing, looks him dead in the eyes. "Heather? Having _problems?_"

Lindsay speaks up. "Everyone has problems. Some are more big than others, but their pain is still their own." Everyone was surprised to hear such insightful words come from Lindsay. Their conversation reaches a dead end and all is silent again, until Courtney speaks, alarmingly calm and icily.

"She would have told me." She says slowly. "She would have told me!" She screams, getting up. She paces back and forth at the front of the classroom, continuing her rant. "We've been neighbors since preschool! We've been through hell together! When it felt like no one was there, _she was!_ We helped each other through our separate losses and heartbreak, but we felt each other. She laughed every single damn day. She showed no symptoms of depression or suicidal behavior. So why the hell would she take her life? Why the hell did she leave me behind?" She takes a pause, realizing all eyes were on her. She begins again, wiping her tears away. "She may not have wanted to tell some of you, because she would be embarrassed or something, but she knows _I_ have been there since day one." As if to indicate a point, she jabs the thumb in her own direction.

Everyone watches Courtney break down for what seems like the tenth time that day. Duncan, again, gets up, and reaches out to touch, pull her in to his embrace, but she swats his hand away. "C'mon, Princess, _please_," he begs her. "I understand you're going through pain and heartbreak-" Courtney's bloodshot eyes shoot up, glaring daggers at him. "No," she says softly. "You don't understand. You don't give a shit about me. Your horny assjust wants to get into my pants!" She screams, pointing a finger at him. For a second, a genuinely hurt expression clouds over the delinquent's face. Then he snarls. "Fine." He says. "_FINE!_" He yells, slamming his clenched face on the desk closest to him. Pencils, pens, and other stationary give a small rattling noise as they jump off the surface of the desk, then landing back on it. Angrily, his nostrils flaring, he glares at the heartbroken brunette. "Push away everyone who cares about you. Be lonely and depressed. I tried helping, but if the pole in your ass reaches your heart, I can't help you." He says coldly. With a huff, he turns around, and walks back to his seat next to Tyler Davis. He pulls out his pocket knife and begins engraving the desk, in memory of Heather.

Everyone is put in a stunned silence at both Courtney and Duncan's outbursts. Bridgette cautiously approaches Courtney and wraps her arms around her. Courtney lets her, resting her head on her shoulder. "I miss her," Courtney says. "We all do," is Bridgette's reply. "It just doesn't make sense. It doesn't add up." The Hispanic says, rubbing her tired eyes, swollen and slightly red from crying so much. She looks up and speaks in Alejandro's direction. "How're you holding up?" She asks softly, already knowing the answer.

He sighs, "We all know I'm not fine." Alejandro chokes on his words, but he knows he'll regret not saying them. "I loved her, but now she's gone. I'll never be able to tell her that she meant the world to me. I still love her. I won't ever stop loving her." Everyone bows their heads to the ground, Alejandro's words taking full effect. They all wished Heather was alive, happy, and in love.

"Maybe she wasn't suicidal," Gwen whispers. Everyone hears her, despite the fact she could barely hear herself.

"What do you mean?" Cody asks, humoring the idea. He liked Gwen (to no one's surprise), and would stand by her ideas, but he was genuinely curious about what she was insinuating.

"I'm saying..." Gwen begins, hesitating. She looks to Trent. He nods encouragingly. She shakes her head, and takes a deep breath. "I"m saying maybe Heather didn't kill herself-" before she can continue her theory, Sierra scoffs. It was no secret she didn't like Gwen. "Are you crazy? This isn't a TV show, it was suicide. What proof do you have, anyway?" Sierra narrows her eyes in Gwen's direction. The goth resists the urge to roll her eyes.

"She could have been pushed. She fell off the rooftop, someone could have easily pushed her."

"Could have," Sierra says darkly. Gwen rolls her eyes but continues. "We don't anything about her death. Your guess is as good as mine." Gwen gives a look to Sierra, seeing what she would say to that. "Who would murder Heather Hampton?" Sierra asks. At the mention of the deceased girl, some people wince. However, the class is quiet as the brainstorm. Their eyes dart to their suspects, never saying a word aloud. "What about Leshawna?" Alejandro questions, giving the said girl a death glare. Majority of the people gasp at the accusation. Murmurs and grumbles flow through the room. Harold, quick to defend his crush, stands up and walks to Alejandro, challenging him. "What makes you say that? Leshawna wouldn't hurt a fly on purpose, you're just jealous of her beauty!" Harold proclaims, pointing an cursing finger at Alejandro. Alejandro moves the geek's hand out of his face. "Listen, amigo, I have a reason."

Leshawna raises an eyebrow and rolls her eyes, and Alejandro has the class' attention. He continues on with his accusation. "_Leshawna _here was Heather's rival, her enemy. She was eeen coming off of the stairs leading up to the roof shortly after Heather's untimely demise. Why else was she on the roof? Sightseeing the crowd gathered around _reina's_ _dead body?_" Alejandro finishes, crossing his arms across his chest, like a stubborn child who wouldn't eat their vegetables. With the end of his proclamation, some students turned to Leshawna with raised eyebrows, unsure who to believe.

"Why are y'all tripping?" Leshawna asks, hands on her hips. "Sure, she was getting under our skin and needed to chill, but what type of monster do you think I am? I wouldn't wish death on her, much less _kill_ her." Many people nod in agreement.

"I for one think that Gwen's right. Heather was murdered, but no by Leshawna." Bridgette says. Courtney wordlessly nods in agreement. Majority of the class do the same.

Alejandro sighs, shaking his head at his own stupidity. "Sorry Leshawna. It's just been a tough day for us all," Alejandro says. He puts his hand out.

Leshawna eyes his extended hand before shaking it. "Don't you worry, Sugar, I would do the same,"

"We'll find out who did this," DJ says, his nobility shining through. "If it's the last thing we do."

_Aftermath : __that's the end of this chapter! it felt really choppy, i apologize for that. the next chapter will focus solely on the characters in their homes and with family, grieving in their own way, with or without each other. it will probably be very long, my apologies! chapter four will be the funeral, and after that will be when things get spiced up. as always, some things i want to discuss : _

_chapter three will include M rated stuff. not sex, but still, this is a trigger warning. the rabbit hole just gets deeper from here. __from this point on, characters like ezekiel, katie sadie, etc. will become minor background characters with little to no storyline. they don't serve an exact purpose in this story or it's plot. _

_this story won't become courtney x alejandro, leshawna x alejandro, or bridgette x alejandro. since all are grieving, alejandro won't have a love interest in the present of this story. he'll of course move on and be happy, just not now. _

_i meant to mention this in the last chapter, but there will be many references to the original show. mainly season one, as it takes the throne for the best season. let me know if you like them or if you want a specific scene or dialogue to be referenced. _

_the six stages of grief will be present. courtney has already gone through the first three, i believe, and alejandro the first two or three as weall, depending on how you want to look at it. _

_lastly, as you may have noticed, alejandro refers to heather as **"reina" **multiple times. this is spanish for **"queenie" **which i thought would be cute to include. _

_like and review xx, _

_z :)_


	3. chapter three : fake smile

_[ disclaimer : i do not own these characters. they belong to their rightful owners and creators. ]_

_[ warning : the following chapters includes topics such as colorful language, violence, drinking, and kissing. **you have been warned. reading after this warning and reading something that makes you uneasy is on you. **] _

_was it murder? an accident? or was she just..._

**SUICIDAL**

When the school day ended, Courtney felt immense relief. The pitiful stares were too much, each breakdown more tiring than the last. Then, of course, seeing her best friend's corpse lifeless was too much for her. It didn't help matters at all that she had snapped at the people she cared about, when they did nothing but try and help her. She felt guilty, but would wait until later to apologize to Duncan. As these thoughts circulate her head, attention is brought elsewhere.

On the rooftop, caution tape surrounded the border. Where Heather's body one laid, was an outline of it made with white chalk. A blood stain was near where her head was. More caution tape surrounded where Heather fell. Courtney tears her eyes away from the scene and continues walking, now at a fast pace. Her eyes burn, hot tears trying to escape.

"_I will not cry_," Courtney reassures herself mentally. "_You've cried enough. Not here, not now. Save it for home._"

The Hispanic walks at a quick pace, determined to arrive home as soon as possible. She didn't want to be at the school for any longer than she had to; everywhere she looked she was reminded of Heather. With her eyes closed, determined not to look at any of the students, officers or staff around her, she walks briskly across the parking lot. However, when she hears Bridgette's comforting voice behind her, Courtney comes to a slow. She looks back expectantly, watching as the blonde ran toward the brunette.

"Courtney, hey," Bridgette says, panting, slightly out of breath. In response, Courtney raised her eyebrows, waiting to hear what Bridgette had to say. "We're worried about you," Bridgette sandwiches one of her friend's hands in her own, looking at her in concern. "Why would you be?" Courtney asks, exhausted from her terrible day.

"Courtney, Heather's gone. How could you not be fine?" Bridgette asks softly. Courtney stares at her silently, unsure what to say. "Fine, I'm not okay. I'm awful, a mess. She's gone, and I'm still alive. Neither of us deserves this." Reflexively, Courtney's hand immediately flies up to her cheek, wiping away more tears. She takes a rattling breath. "We wanted to travel Europe together after highschool. Every summer after that, we'd take on a different region until we had seen practically everywhere. There was so much we wanted to do. And now we can't." Courtney looks down at her feet as she talks. Bridgette just looks at her silently.

"Moving on will be hard. I - _we_ \- know that. But we'll be here to support you, okay?" Courtney slowly nods. Bridgette puts her arm around her shoulder. "Now come on, don't you want a ride home?"

. . .

As the car speeds down the road, Courtney plays with the radio. Almost every lyric reminds her of Heather and what happened to her. Every five seconds, she'd switch the channel.

"_Falling, falling, but I never though you would leave me..._"

"_Didn't mean to leave you, and all the things we had behind..._"

"_I wish you would come back..._"

"_I don't want new, I want you-_"

"_he's still dead, when you're done with the bottle-_"

Finally, Courtney can't take it anymore. She turns the radio off, not being able to listen to songs at the moment. Geoff doesn't look at her, instead being attentive to the road. "You okay, bro?" He asks, concern milking in his voice.

Courtney takes a deep breath. "I will be," she tries to sound confident, and adds a smile too. He returns it. As they roll into her driveway, Bridgette calls out "See you later!" As Courtney gets out. In response, she waves back. They slowly peel out of her driveway, and Courtney waves until they were out of sight.

She pulls her keys out of the pocket in her backpack and unlocks her front door. "Mom? Dad?" She calls out desperately. She receives no response. With a sigh, Courtney heads to the kitchen. Sure enough, there was a note from her parents.

_Courtney, _

_Sorry dear, your father and I had a last minute case to attend to. As you read this, we will be flying across the continent to New York. We'll be home next Sunday. __Be responsible and mature - don't do something we wouldn't do._

_We heard about Heather. Give us a call at 5PM (your time, of course) and we can talk about it if you wish. If you want, you can have a sleepover with Bridgette and the others if you don't want to be alone. _

_We miss you and love you,_

_Mom and Dad_

Courtney wasn't surprised to hear her parents had another court case. She was slightly relieved. With an hour phone call - tops - she didn't have to deal with their questions more than she had too. Plus, she had cried an awful lot at school; maybe she wouldn't be a mess later? With a sigh, she cripples the note and tosses it in the recycling bin. She puts her hands on her hips, unsure what to do.

All homework had been put on hold until next week in regards of the "incident" as they kept on referring to _it _as. All Chemistry, Alegebra, English, History, or really any subject, had their homework eliminated from Courtney's to-do list. That left chores that she had to do, before her parents came home in five days. "_This will be real fun_," she thinks sarcastically.

With lawyers as parents, she was used to this schedule. They always left at random times, and on multiple occasions they missed special holidays and occasions to celebrate with their daughter. When she was 11, she spent Christmas at Heather's because her parents weren't home and her aunts, uncles and cousins decided to spend Christmas at her grandparents, who lived out of state.

Courtney rolls her sleeves up, and starts filling up the dirty bowls and cups with water. Slowly and bitterly, she cleans each dish until they shine. When she's halfway done, Courtney can't help but zone out, lost in her memories. She knew crying tonight was unavoidable: she'd be alone, in bed, in her empty house, with only her thoughts for comfort. However, crying every ten minutes was something she refused to do. Instead, she focuses on her favorite memories.

The year when Geoff moved to their school district was by far the best. They were all in sixth grade, and it was just Heather, Bridgette and herself. Alejandro hanged out with the other boys in their class, only talking to Courtney and her friends to drop a snarky comment, to which Duncan would always laugh at. It was Halloween, and some kids came to her and Heather's neighborhood for trick-or-treating, as everyone knew it was the ultimate candy-grab. She remembered the memory vividly.

. . .

_halloween, six years ago ._

_Heather Hampton and her best friend Courtney walked side by side, candy buckets in hand. They wore matching outfits for Halloween once again, both as pigs in a blanket. They wore pig onesies and shared a blanket wrapped around them. They had just started this year's trick-or-treating when they came across some kids who they didn't recognize from their neighborhood. _

_As said kids turned around, Heather and Courtney gasp in unison. "**You!**" Courtney snarls, seeing Alejandro, Duncan, DJ, and the new kid, Geoff. Their worst enemies. They smile a mischievous shared smile, and say innocently, "What's wrong? Can't we just trick or treat here in peace?" Alejandro asks, grinning at Heather. Heather scowls in return. "Oh shut it, you donkey," Ever since she had learnt what the Hispanic male's last name meant, she called him nothing but donkey. It really went under his skin. _

_"Oh come on, guys!" DJ says, as Heather and Alejandro continue giving each other death glares, while Duncan raises his eyebrows and smirks in a flirtatious way to Courtney, to which she scowled but blushed. "This is Halloween! Let's just get along!" Everyone stares back reluctantly. "Fine, let's make a bet. Girls versus Boys."_

_Heather smirked, giving Courtney a challenging look, to which she returned. "We're interested." Courtney says grinning. "We are too," Geoff said, on behalf of the boys. DJ smiles. "Whoever can stand the longest time without being rude to the others wins. That means Duncan can't tease Courtney, Courtney can't hit Duncan, Alejandro can't be a suck-up, Heather can't call him a donkey, and Bridgette-" DJ looks around. "Where even is she?"_

_"She's trick-or-treating in her cousins's neighborhood." Heather snaps. "Wish we came when she offered us to go!" She said, glaring at the boys' direction. "Anyway..." DJ says. "You in?" He puts his hand out._

_Slowly, all the kids put their hand in the center. "What do we get if we win?" Courtney asks. Everyone shrugs. "Half of everyone's candy?" Geoff asks. Everyone hesitantly nods. "Be prepared to get crushed." Heather smiles wickedly. _

_The rest of the night was a blast. The kids raced from house to house, and even laughed at the other's jokes. The girl's did end up winning, as Duncan had cracked and called Courtney uptight when she suggested they go home as it got darker. _

_It was one of the best memories for all of them. _

. . .

Something sharp scrapes against Courtney's hand, jerking her back to reality.

"Fuck," she whispers to herself, realizing that she accidentally broke a glass. A large, bloody scrape lined her wrist. She winces as more water falls on it. Immediately, she turns the faucet off. Her mind is racing. Then she realizes something; her parents are rarely home. They wouldn't notice a _glass_ missing. With her CIT training, she could get her cut bandaged up in five minutes, tops. With these thoughts, she calms down.

First, she puts pressure on it with a paper towel. She watches as it immediately soaks up blood, and the white towel slowly becoming more and more red. With the towel completely covered and no longer in use, she tosses the towel in the waste bin. She three bandages, peeling the wrapping off. She gently lays them on her cut. When she's done, she looks at the mess in her sink.

There, a wine glass that belonged to her parents, was broken in three big pieces. Carefully, she picks all three up and wraps them in newspapers that she found in her father's office; surely he wouldn't miss them. Cautiously, when all three are wrapped, she drops them in the trashcan. She makes a mental note to take out the trash the next day.

Courtney sighs with relief. With that broken glass, she was officially done with the dishes. Now for the rest of the chores.

Time seems to fly but also go by slowly as Courtney powers through her chores. She loads the washing machine, cleans two out of five bathrooms, and dusts the downstairs and reorganizes her room for the second time that week. Soon enough, it's 5PM, and Courtney was nervous. She _really_ didn't want to cry - _again_ \- in front of her parents; they'd look down on her, thinking she was weak. As a Castillo-Rodriguez, she was raised to believe that showing sadness or fear was not the way to go. It was natural to feel, but she was never expected to express those emotions or act upon them.

She knew if they knew what a mess she was during school, they would be ashamed.

Her hands shaking, she dials their number in as soon as the clock strikes 5. Her parents pick up immediately, expecting her call.

Courtney is welcomed with the sight of her parents. She immediately plasters on a fake smile on her face.

"Hey Mom and Dad, how's New York?"

_Aftermath : _

_i had many ideas for this chapter. it still doesn't feel right, but oh well. some ideas i had were scrapped, some being courtney being reduced to self-harm, which i then gathered took things a bit too far and was afraid i would somehow romanticize it, making it seem much smaller than it is. if you like the idea of having self-harm get awareness in this story, let me know and i may include it. another idea i had was to have everyone's "reactions", i guess you could say, in one chapter, but i would rather make multiple short chapters so it's not confusing and i'm not bouncing back and forth between characters in a giant chapter. some characters will have a joint chapter, because their mourning wouldn't be long enough for a chapter or they're with another character._

_this was obviously courtney's chapter, but i have some things to bring up ( i'm annoying, ik ). _

_\- the songs with the radio was an idea i had from the way beginning. in order, the songs are in my head by ariana grande, sorry by halsey, i wish you would by taylor swift, new by daya, and lastly sippy cup by melanie martinez. _

_\- alejandro's chapter is next. _

_-the funeral chapter may be chapter five or six, it's not exactly all planned out. _

_\- again, sorry for such a short and crappy chapter. _

_i'm a shitty writer, _

_z :)_


	4. chapter four : reina

_[ disclaimer : i do not own any of these characters. they belong to their rightful owners and creators. ]_

_[ warning : the following chapters include topics such as colorful language, violence, drugs, death, and kissing. **you have been warned. reading after this warning and reading something that makes you uneasy is on you. **]_

_was it murder? an accident? or was she just... _

**SUICIDAL**

As soon as Alejandro heard the final bell of the day, he booked it home. As much as he loved them, he didn't really want to be around his friends at the moment. Sure, they were hurting as much as he was, maybe even more, but his energy was drained. Unlike Bridgette, DJ and Geoff, he wasn't comforting his friends. Unlike Courtney, he wasn't a sobbing, depressed mess. Unlike Duncan, he wasn't angry. Unlike his classmates, he wasn't confused.

He was heartbroken and craved to be alone.

Luckily, when he reached his home, he got his wish. His siblings were all in college and moved out, and his parents were either at work or sleeping around with someone else (he got his womanizing traits from somewhere), meaning he had the entire house to himself.

As he looked around his empty home, Alejandro really didn't know what to do. His footsteps echoed the empty halls, and everywhere he looked, he was reminded of his dead lover.

The family room, where him and his friends had binge-watched Netflix for four days straight during winter break three years ago. Many of their parents were away or didn't mind spending New Year's at Alejandro's house, and the Hispanic couldn't help but smile as he recalled that night.

. . .

_new years eve, three years ago ._

_Despite the fact that the TV was blaring, Alejandro wasn't paying any attention to it. What captured his attention (and his eye) was the raven-haired girl next to him. The womanizer had a crush on her, despite him pretending to hate her guts. He didn't think he would ever admit to it; he feared rejection._

_He could almost hear Heather's laugh; _"You actually thought someone like **me** could like someone like **you?** Don't make me laugh, you ass."_ Alejandro was practically sweating just thinking of the humiliation. _

_So when Heather had fallen asleep on his shoulder, Alejandro mentally panicked. He quickly smirked, as he knew Duncan, DJ and Geoff were watching him to see his reaction. Alejandro's pulse was racing in all honesty; sometimes he played around with other girls, sure, but mostly for his gain. _("My dear Beth, your skin is as radiant as the sun. Would you care to shed some light to help me with my Geometry homework?") _But Heather, there was something different about her. He genuinely liked her, he wanted to spend his time with her, flirting with her until she blushed. _

_He wanted her to be his._

_So finally, when it was a minute away from midnight, he woke up his Asian crush. The girl immediately shot up, embarrassed that she woke up sleeping on her worst enemy's shoulder. She snaps at the Hispanic. "Why did you wake me up?" She demands, annoyed. _

_Alejandro wasn't scared. He had gathered his courage, put on his award-winning smirk, and spoke in his most sexy and intriguing voice he owned. "To do this," he says mysteriously. _

_Before Heather Hampton had time to either react or even register his words, her mouth was invaded by his. Both teenagers closed their eyes as they leaned into the kiss, soaking in each other. _

_Meanwhile, their friends were watching, amused. All at one point had confronted them, alone or together, that they liked each other, but they would angrily deny the statement each time. But here they were, making out; with tongue, they noted. _

_Courtney and Geoff were practically in hysterics and recorded the kiss to tease them about later. Bridgette was smiling, happy the pair was finally getting together. Duncan wolf whistled, much to the annoyance of the couple. DJ was munching on popcorn, eyes captivated by the TV screen, unaware of the scene taking place. _

_At exactly midnight, the two of them broke apart, smiles plastered on both faces. Neither cared nor remembered that their closest friends were present or that it was New Years Eve. They were the center of each others attention._

_They knew it was about time they got together. _

. . .

Alejandro knew those were nothing but memories. He knew, deep in his heart, that he would never see his _reina_ again or fully recover from her death. At this realization (for what seemed like the tenth time that day), Alejandro felt his stomach drop, his heart stop. Sort of like when you're on the climax of a roller coaster; you know what's coming, and when you look down, as the cart nears the ground, you can't scream. You can't feel your body; you're just _there_. Existing and breathing, nothing else.

Alejandro raced through the house. Every photograph or picture frame he found containing Heather he placed face down. Someday, he'd be able to look at those photos, smiling, but not right now. Not today. Not anytime soon. "_Maybe not ever," _Alejandro thinks.

Every part of himself told Alejandro not to look at the photos; not to welcome the memories. They screamed at him, at his brain, at his heart, at his eyes and hands; _don't look at the pictures._

Betraying himself, he did, and immediately regretted it.

The photo he was looking at stared right back at him. The photo was taken when he and his friends were in the eighth grade, and were visiting a local park for a picnic. The leaves on the trees were shades of gold, vibrant reds and scarlets, mango oranges, and were barely hanging on the branches. The leaves that littered the ground were stepped on, caked with dirt and dew. Some had become brown, but majority still had the same vibrancy as the other (alive) leaves.

Him and his friends were dressed to the max in autumn attire. Scarves, mittens, coats, hats and boots covered the teens' bodies. Despite the occasion being four years ago, give or take a few months, Alejandro could still feel the crisp and cool winds against his face. He felt the fresh and exhilarating winds on nose, the tips of his ears, on his cheeks. The Hispanic could still smell the crisp winds with a soft, apple-like smell stirred with it.

Behind them was a table piled with food that could feed a dozen. Turkey, apple pies, salad, rice, cheesecake, along with many more foods glazed the tabletop. Just looking at the food made Alejandro's mouth water. As he gazed at the food, he remembered why they were there.

They had met up at the park and decided to celebrate Thanksgiving early, with each other. They were grateful for many things, yes, but they were most thankful for having each other.

_"This feast is to show that we will always have each other's backs," _Courtney had said. _"We will always be there. No matter how fucked up life becomes, we will stick together and dominate it."_

Alejandro remembered it. He remembered it all. Lastly, almost scared, he looks down at the people contained in the photograph itself.

Everyone's eyes were anywhere but the camera. Bridgette and Geoff had small smiles on their faces as they looked into each other's eyes. Geoff has his arms around Bridgette and they were captured in an embrace.

Himself and Heather were also looking at each other. Not with the affection Geoff and Bridgette shared, but with an attraction, you could say. They were drawn together, like a moth to a flame, with Alejandro's signature smirk and Heather's normal scowl. However, you could tell there was a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Courtney and Duncan exchanged glances with a fiery passion. Duncan had his arms around her, to which everyone noticed (besides them). He, to no one's surprise, smirked at Courtney, a smirk that nearly no girl could resist. Courtney glared back, in irritation, but one could just barely see a blush creep on her mocha cheeks.

DJ stood behind his friends, towering over them by a few inches. His face was caught in delight, laughing in the direction of the camera. He never minded being a third (or seventh?) wheel, he really didn't. It always just amused him, seeing them grow over the years, watching their relations evolve from hate to love.

At that moment, everything was perfect. Everything was right. The camera had captured it all.

His hands now shaking, he drops the frame. As if in slow motion, the picture frame falls. The glass makes contact with the wood floor and it shatters. Small shards of glass shower the hard wood floor, scattering all over the place. The pieces are many and small. With a sigh, Alejandro gets up to get a brush and pan to clean the mess.

As the Hispanic sweeps the glass into the plastic pan, he never feels more alone. He had no idea where his friends were or if they were okay - _That's a stupid question, of course they're not okay,_ he scolds himself silently. To make himself feel better, he pockets and treasures the photo of a better time.

. . .

That night, Alejandro can't sleep. He stared at the ceiling of his room, his house still empty. Normally, he wouldn't be surprised nor bothered, but now, he just wanted some company. It was only nine at night; way too early to fall asleep, in his own opinion, but Alejandro couldn't find it in his heart to do anything else.

As he stares at the ceiling, his mind is abnormally quiet. He stares at the spots of the ceiling, until finally, his thoughts burst through, as if they'd been waiting to come out.

Alejandro's head pounds, he can't take it. It's like the ghost of his past is haunting him; as if his _reina_ is following him. She absorbs his mind, alive or not, conscious or otherwise. Heather has been on his mind all day. He silently pleads for it to stop, for it all to come to an end.

Fully awake, he reaches for his phone and punches in Geoff's number. He doesn't bat an eye.

"Geoff, can you and everyone else come to my place for the night?"

_Aftermath :_

_another chapter done! sorry for a long wait, i have cousins over and i've been busy traveling. i can't guarantee chapters to be posted at certain times, but i can guarantee that i'll try my hardest to post them as often as possible. _

_thank you for the reviews! they mean a lot. ( i am addressing a few in the following ) i'm glad that, for one, i'm writing serious scenes correctly without romanticizing them. don't worry about the list of suspects, that will come up again later. leshawna may be qritten off as innocent for now, but that'll come up again, soon, don't worry. thank you all for the reviews and compliments, they make me so happy! leave your theories through a review; was heather murdered, suicidal, or was her death an accident? what do you think went down that afternoon? who seems to be the most suspicious? _

_next chapter will be focusing on DJ, Duncan, Bridgette, Geoff, and two more characters! guesses who? chapter six will be all of the main characters coming together for a sleepover, as hinted at from the end of this chapter, and chapter seven will be the long awaited funeral._

_also, as you may have figured out , i am biased towards certain characters, i.e. courtney, so if i seem to be weaseling more words for her than anyone else, you know why. i'm trying to make this story as unbiased as possible and giving everyone sufficient time in chapters, so bear with me. _

_if you want a hint for what's to come in this story, i have a few words; shit's bout to go down._

_take care,_

_z :)_


	5. chapter five : broken o’ clock

[_ disclaimer : i do not own any of these characters. they belong to their rightful owners and creators. ] _

_[ warning : the following chapters include chapters such as colorful language, violence, drugs, death, and kissing. **you have been warned. reading after this warning and reading something that makes you uneasy is on you. **] _

_[ warning ii. : this chapter. is so. LONG. you've been warned, hope you don't fall asleep— ]_

_was it murder? an accident? or was she just..._

**SUICIDAL**

_**part i. he shoots, he doesn't score.**_

As always, after school had ended, Duncan and DJ races to the platter's home. The two friends had been partnered up for a project on whales in the first grade, and since then, they were inseparable. Where one was, the other would follow. They were practically joined at this hip; they were like brothers.

Since Duncan didn't exactly have the best relationship with his parents, and DJ's mother was welcoming to all, so every Tuesday and Thursday after school, they had always headed to DJ's house to play basketball, frisbee, video games, or anything in between. Today, they would storm DJ's basketball court - his driveway.

As soon as Duncan had set foot on his best friend's yard, both boys stopped, panting hard, trying to catch their breath. Then, the delinquent cracked a smile to his kind friend. "Let's see if Ma made some lemonade and pie," he says, a genuine smile on his face. Since his own Ma wasn't the most supportive of him (and his antics), his friend's mom was like a second mother to him; one he loved dearly.

However, when they got inside, all they find is a note on the clean island located in the kitchen. Along with the rest of the house, the kitchen was organized but comfortable, photos framing the walls, showing a loving family. The outside of the home itself screamed lived in and loving. A tree was in the front yard, perfect for crying. A tire swing hung from a sturdy branch. A picture perfect picket fence surrounded the grounds, the gardens cared for and trimmed to perfection. The backyard was huge, with a deck and pool accompanying it.

If a house could smile, this house would be grinning from ear to ear.

As DJ's mother worked (and proudly owned! The place was her life's work.) at a café named Bittersweet and the woman volunteered at school and charities, having a prized seat at the school board. Overall, Mrs. Kennedy was a busy mother, but a loving one nevertheless. As expected, DJ's mother was elsewhere, as she specified in her own handwriting scrawled on a Post-It. DJ read the note aloud.

"_Dear DJ and Duncan, as you've probably guessed, there's a meeting at the school board concerning your friend Heather. I'm terribly sorry for your loss and the sadness placed on your shoulders at such a young and ripe age. We can talk later if you wish. Anyway, lemonade is in the fridge, apple pie is in the oven, and I cut up some watermelon for you. If you want, you can have friends over or sleep over at a friend's house. Love, Momma._" DJ finished reading. Duncan was already raiding the fridge, grabbing lemonade and watermelon. Following his example, DJ grabbed oven mits to protect his hands (safety first!) and took the warm apple pie out of the oven. Dividing it into pieces, DJ places some slices of pie onto plates he got from a cupboard. Soon, the boys' snacks are ready to take outside and most importantly—eat.

The two boys decide to munch on their snacks before playing basketball. The silence is heavy in the air and can be cut with a knife as easily as one could cut apple pie. It would feel so odd to talk and laugh as they usually would after such a dreary day. It felt strange and made the air thick and uncomfortable—it felt as if they were squeezed into too tight jeans.

Finishing off his slice, Duncan starts talking. "Well, what do you want to do man?" It was a good question; after the events of the day sunk in, basketball didn't seem to be as fun as it had five minutes ago. DJ shrugs. "I don't know, should we work on the time capsule?"

The two boys had been installing a time capsule for years now. Since sixth grade, when Geoff moved to the neighborhood, the boys have been collecting photos and trinkets to represent the years they have lived. Song lyrics, puzzle pieces, torn pieces of clothing, polaroids, yearbooks, diary entries that Duncan may have stolen from his peers filled the brim of the box. DJ and Duncan wanted to bury the capsule on the last day of school and re-open it when they were thirty, with their friends by their side.

With the help of their friends' family members, the boys had collected many nostalgic items; Duncan's first stolen item, a keychain, DJ's basketball signed by his idol, Heather's ballet slippers, Alejandro's first bow tie, Geoff's first cow boy hat, Bridgette's surfboard inspiration collection, and Courtney's first violin award ("Earned at age 7!" the Castillo-Rodriguezs' proudly bragged).

_Courtney. _The mere mention of the name sent a tidal wave of emotion through Duncan, ranging from rage to heartbreak to something like love, and everything in between. Duncan ignores the feeling.

"Haven't we finished it already? I don't want people thinking I'm going soft or anything." Duncan complains. DJ laughs, he can't help it. With his friend going heart eyes over Courtney and him working on a time capsule for years, Duncan had already become mush. "Whatever, man. There's still things to add," DJ urges.

"Like what?" Duncan asks. "Alejandro's first diaper? Bridgette's favorite bra? Heather's _blood?_" As soon as the words came out, Duncan regretted it immediately. All too late, Duncan clamps his hand over his mouth, as if preventing his words from escaping when they were long gone. Sadly, somewhat exhausted, DJ glares at his delinquent friend. His anger doesn't reach his eyes. "Dude, calm down. I know you didn't mean it, but you're going to have to watch your mouth," DJ warns.

"You're right, sorry," Duncan mumbles rushedly, before continuing in a noticeably higher pitched voice, "So let's check out this capsule, c'mon."

. . .

After hours of recollecting through items, and adding more items (a newspaper article on Heather, a leaked photo that some sicko had taken, and grieving notes left behind by both DJ and Duncan), the two boys find themselves in a funk. Even though he knew it was like poking a sleeping bear with a stick, DJ's curiosity won. Cautiously drew out his question, and watched as Duncan visibly tensed, his jaw clenching and his fists opening and closing in routine.

"What the hell's up with you and Courtney anyway?"

Duncan couldn't help his body tensing, he couldn't help the rush of emotion that seemed to ride through him at 100 mph. "I don't know what the fuck is up with that chick." Duncan admits. "One minute she's hugging me and crying into my shoulder and the next I'm scolded for trying to get into her pants!"

Before DJ can put his take, Duncan hurriedly continues. "And goddammit, I _do _want to get into her pants! She's hot and fierce, smart and calculated, how could I _not _love her?" Too deep into his tangeant, he hadn't realized what he had admitted. "God, I want her to be mine and take her out and do all the crap couples do. Why is she so far up in her ass to realize that?" At this, Duncan puts his face in his hands, his fingers ruffling through his green mohawk.

"You two will work things out," DJ says confidently. "Just talk to her,"

"How do you know that will work?" Duncan mutters. "She hates admitting she's wrong and as far as everyone knows, I have no emotion."

DJ almost laughed at his friend's obliviousness; _almost. _"Dude, you guys have been arguing since daycare when you would tease her for following Mr. Hatchet's rules. Y'all haven't gotten along since day one." This pep talk clearly dampens Duncan's posture, and DJ rushed through to his next thought. "But here you are, more than a decade later, still close. How does that work? Don't you think she would've dropped you long ago if she despised you so much? Y'all can work it out. You always do."

Duncan smiles. "Thanks man, that's cool of you,"

Before his BFG of a friend could respond, a loud vibration of DJ's phone goes off. Glancing at his phone, DJ excuses himself. "It's Momma," he explains, and Duncan nods understandingly. As soon as DJ leaves, Duncan springs up and immediately grabs the pizza bites from the pantry. Putting the rolls in the microwave, Duncan pops open soda cans and chip bags, making sure to leave the snacks on the island, making sure Mama wouldn't be upset to see a mess in the living room.

DJ returns, his footsteps in sync with the microwave beeping. "Momma said she ain't coming home until midnight. Busy day at the restaurant, she says." DJ relays the message. Duncan nods, distractingly. "That's three hours," the delinquent says distractingly. "We could pop in a movie and eat these snacks. Say thanks to Ma, by the way, for getting barbecue chips this time."

DJ shrugs, not having a problem with it. "You can choose the film, too, if you want,"

. . .

"When I said you could choose the film, I didn't mean for you to choose Annabelle!" DJ cowers in the back of the blanket fort. Duncan pays no mind, his eyes are glued to the front of the screen.

"Grow up, dude!" Duncan chuckles, tossing a handful of popcorn in his friend's direction. DJ lets out a yelp when he sees that the popcorn is extra buttery—and extra _stainy_ at that.

"Watch it!" DJ nearly yells. Before Duncan can even think of a response, the former's phone rings. Picking up, DJ speaks into the phone. "Hello?"

"_Amigo?_" A tired accent speaks. "_I tried calling Duncan's house, but figured you'd both be at your house. Put your cellphone on speaker, please, this involves Duncan too._"

"Will do," DJ obeys, motioning for Duncan to pause their movie. Curiously, Duncan does so.

Bashfully, Alejandro continues, like he's admitting an embarrassing secret. "_Well, I called Geoff, Bridgette and Courtney already, but I was wondering if you would like to spend the night over? I know everyone's feeling lonely and upset tonight, so I figured 'why not?'. So far, everyone's on board. Courtney is on her way now, Bridge and Geoff are stopping at Bittersweet to get coffee and sweets, and I figured you guys could bring snacks since you have the best ones._"

"Course!" DJ accepts immediately. Duncan nods, but upon remembering Alejandro can't even see him, he also vocally agrees. The three exchange their goodbyes and continue on their separate ways.

. . .

After contacting their mothers (DJ convinced Duncan that it'd be best for his mother to know), the two had loaded DJ's car with necessities. As the two start their dark trip to Alejandro's house, they see a figure walking on the sidewalk, bundles of stuff in their arms. As they inch closer to the person, the males realize the figure is a woman.

"Dude, pull over," Duncan says. He doesn't know why, but he had a feeling it would be the right thing to do.

DJ does so. As he pulls over, DJ asks in his kind voice; "Ma'am, do you need any help?"

"Some help would suffice, thanks DJ," a tired voice replies.

Surprised, DJ nearly jumps out of his seat. "_Courtney? _What are you doing here?" Duncan perks up, suddenly interested.

"Same thing as you, apparently. Over to Alejandro's." Before DJ or Duncan, who she hadn't seen yet, can form a question, she answers them. "My parents took the cars with them to New York this time around. Apparently, it takes three cars to fit themselves, their staff and luggage to the airport, and then to New York."

"That is unbelievable," Duncan says, speaking in the conversation for the first time. Startled, Courtney's eyes widen. "_Duncan?_ What are you doing here?"

"Same thing as you, apparently. Over to Alejandro's." Duncan mimics Courtney immediately, to which she rolls her eyes at. Things seemed to already be normal between them.

"Whatever, are you going to give me a ride now?"

. . .

_**part ii. malibu be damned.**_

After dropping Courtney off at her house, Geoff and Bridgette rode to Geoff's in an iffy silence. Bridgette hated today, she hated it so much.

The day had started normal; Heather planned her party, snapped at Beth, Courtney and Duncan went back and forth, her and Geoff made out, her classmates continued their lives as they had been going for a decade. God, that seemed like such a long time ago.

Damn, than lunch came.

Bridgette watched her friends fall into a despair as the world seemed to pause and crash and burn at the same time. She watched Duncan blow up, she watched Courtney's confident body wither into an insecure woman with bloodshot, teary eyes with a red nose. Bridgette witnessed Alejandro shut down and randomly start up again, in random moments of anger. Bridgette saw people mourn and comfort.

But what she couldn't see? Geoff's reaction.

Geoff had been quiet for what seemed like a whole decade. His face rotated between betraying no emotion, and these sad eyes and pouty lips that would make even an upbeat dog miserable. Geoff hadn't screamed, yelled, cried or done anything; his emotions seemed to be blanking, like he was still somehow processing what the hell was happening. The vacant look in his eyes worried Brigette. Geoff, like herself and DJ, had spent the whole time comforting others that when he finally had silence, his thoughts were loud and crowded. Unorganized, confused, needing an escape.

An escape they got.

Bridgette called her grandparents, telling them she was spending the night over at Geoff's. They understood. Geoff, however, made no contact with his parents, as they weren't close. His own parents were probably at a formal party about business or whatnot, leaving their son home alone. With a miserable Geoff, that is the last thing you should do.

Geoff rarely drinks. It's against the law, it's not healthy, it tastes awful. It doesn't help him or his problems or his friends or Bridgette. But today, in his opinion, was an exception, a day which he would willingly crack open a bottle of champagne and drink.

Bridgette watched as he downed a glass. After he was done only one glass, to her surprise, he stopped. Tiredly, with bags under his eyes that seemed to have grown there in a matter of minutes, he says bluntly; "I don't want to be too drunk later and do something I'll regret.

He staggers up, and strokes Bridgette's cheek. Her green eyes stared up at him, innocently. Almost demanding him to make the next move. "I love you, you know that?" Geoff asks.

Bridgette smiles. "Of course I do," she almost whispers. Unintentionally, the pair's eyes fall on the other's lips. At the same time, their lips crash into the other's, and they are immediately enamored in each other.

Slowly and unconsciously, Bridgette leads Geoff into his bedroom. The two landed on Geoff's queen-sized bed, their lips never parting. "We shouldn't do this," Bridgette breathes out as Geoff plants kisses down her neck.

"Why not?" Geoff murmured in response. He bites gently on her collarbone, and it takes all of Bridgette not to make a sound.

"It's disrespectful. It's wrong. It's..." Bridgette lists, trailing off. Geoff looks up at her, brushing some of her golden strands away from her face. "It's alright," Geoff assures. "It's alright babe,"

"I'm not sure..." Bridgette repeats, biting her lip. However, a small, greedy part of her screams at her noble heart; "_You deserve this. If anything, Heather would _want _you two to continue_," Geoff interupts the battle going on in her head, in her heart, when he comfortingly hugs Bridgette. "It's your call, babe," he reassures her.

Geoff may be oblivious, clueless, not the smartest. But he was kind and caring, understanding. He never pushed Bridgette. The two of them had been together for _five _years, starting way back in seventh grade. They had been close to sex a few times in the past year, but was she ready? Were _they _ready?

More importantly, _was it right? _

Bridgette grabs Geoff's hand in desperation. Taking a deep breath, she whispers vulnerable but sure words. "I think I'm ready now."

"I think I'm ready now." Geoff repeats, as the two blondes sit on the edge of the bed, their lips connecting, as they tear off each other's clothing.

. . .

When Bridgette wakes up, it's not to the afternoon sun she expected or the turn of keys from the front door that she had been dreading. Instead, it was pitch black and a vibrating phone got her attention.

Without tearing her eyes away from the phone, Bridgette distractingly shook her boyfriend awake. "Geoff, babe, your phone is ringing," she says. A snore is her response, almost ironically and mockingly. With a sigh, she gets up to answer her boyfriend's phone.

Her reflection catches her attention. In Geoff's room, there were mirrors on the closet doors, coating the wood entirely. The closet doors seemed to be made entirely of glass, but of course, that wasn't the case. Bridgette's once neat ponytail was a mess, strands falling out everywhere. She noticed a particularly dark hickie that she would have to cover up later, and it wasn't until her eyes traveled down her body did she realize what she was wearing, and upon realization, Bridgette's cheeks blushed a vibrant red.

Her bra was taken off, lost somewhere in her lover's room, her breasts exposed. She was wearing Geoff's pink button shirt, however, at the time, it was unbuttoned. Her tan, tall legs were standing proudly, with only panties on.

How is it, half naked and in her boyfriend's sweaty shirt, she felt more beautiful than ever?

Tearing her eyes away from her reflection, she immediately accepts whoever was calling Geoff so urgently. Before she could apologize for however long the caller had waited, the speaker immediately launches into conversation. A half awake, familiar voice reaches her ears.

"_Geoff, can you and everyone else spend the night at my place?_"

"Uh, hi, Alejandro," Bridgette says quietly, sure not to awake Geoff. She looks over her shoulder, where sure enough, Geoff was still sleeping soundly.

"_Bridgette_," Alejandro says, slightly surprised. Bridgette nods, forgetting he can't see her. "Yeah, it's me. Geoff's asleep and is sleeping so soundly, so I decided to pick up for him. Anyway, you were saying you want a sleepover?"

"_Well, yeah_," Alejandro admits, sounding sheepish. "_Can you guys come over?_"

"Sure," Bridgette says without a thought. "We can stop by at Bittersweet to pick up pastries and coffee if you'd like."

Alejandro, on the other side of his phone, nods eagerly and licks his lips. He would _kill _for some Bittersweet right now. "_Sure, why not?_ _See you in a bit_,"

"See you," Bridgette agrees hanging up the phone, than reaching over to perform a grueling task; waking Geoff up.

. . .

Half an hour later, Bridgette and Geoff had locked the front door of the Brooks' household and were on their way to Bittersweet. Self-consciously, Bridgette checks to make sure that her hickie is properly covered; it would be _so _embarrassing for someone to point out it was covered sloppily and awfully.

"Babe, we're here." Geoff turns to Bridgette. "What're we getting again?"

Bridgette signed and closed her eyes. As she lists a treat or beverage, she ticks a finger off, listing the items. "Courtney likes her blueberry muffins and coffee with two pumps of vanilla. I like frozen lemonade and powdered donuts Heather liked her double cappachino macchiato—" It wasn't until she said it did she realize her mistake.

Bridgette brushes over it like nothing happened. "Anyway. Alejandro despises coffee, so he only has bagels and cream cheese from Buttersweet. Duncan likes bitter coffee with no sugar, milk or _anything_ in it." Bridgette wrinkles her nose. She never understood and never would understand how Duncan stood, let alone _loved_ his coffee that way. Bridgette continues. "DJ likes caramel tea and macarons, but he's fine with anything. But, let's get twice of everything and more things like donuts and such, just in case."

Geoff is silent for a moment. Then, "You've got that memorized, right? 'Cause I sure as hell don't."

. . .

As soon as the two walk in, the couple are embraced by the warmth of the café. Living in Canada May have perks, but the cold definitely isn't one of them.

Bridgette and Geoff place their order (more Bridgette than Geoff) and wait for the poor waitress to get all of their pastries and drinks ready. Even from all the way across the restaurant, you could hear the woman behind the counter grumbling things along the lines of "_Why these darn kids order sugar shit is beyond me_," and "_Why did I drop out of college? If I hadn't I wouldn't be stuck in this restaurant serving these blonde brats diabetes._"

However, this does not draw Bridgette's attention. Instead, it's an uncomfortable feeling that seems not rest on her back. A feeling that seems like someone's watching her.

Bridgette turns around, and what she sees surprises her.

At a booth sat Gwen Willows and Trent Franklin. The teal-loving goth and music loving guitarist. As far as she knew, Trent and Gwen hadn't admitted their feelings for each other, much less were going out. In December or November, Bridgette wasn't sure at this point, Heather had predicted the two would be hauled off to different colleges and would never see each other again; Bridgette predicted they'd go to prom together, and Courtney had thought the two were already dating.

If only Heather could see this now.

The duo looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Gwen and Trent?" Bridgette asks, surprised.

_**part iii. bitter tears and coffee dates. **_

People think they have Gwen figured out. They think she's just some dark, depressed goth; or a "weird goth girl", as Heather had put it. But in actuality, Gwen had layers, a backstory; a life no one but herself seemed to understand. She was a complex person stuck in a high school, a world, a society where everything seemed to be black and white.

Until now.

_She was the It-Girl, the Queen Bee. The guys wanted to date her. The girls envied and admired her. Everyone wanted to be her. But no one wants to be a dead girl._ Gwen had scribbled into her diary. Many her age considered diaries to be foolish and immature, and at times Gwen thought the same, but she kept writing each and every day for about a decade. It was almost therapeutic, a routine that she performed to keep her life in check.

It was hard to pinpoint the exact date she began writing her every thought, but Gwen knew she was seven or eight. Her father had died in a car accident, leaving her mother to fend for her small but loving family. The widow worked as a waitress, and worked hard at that. Every cent she could earn and every shift she could work she did. Gwen's mother was hardly home, but she nor her brother minded, knowing she was working her ass off.

The diner her mother worked at belonged to her great-grandmother and had belonged to the family ever since. Mrs. Willows refused to sell the place to keep food on the table, and hoped Gwen would one day inherit the diner herself.

Of course, Gwen planned on going to university and to study art history, but her mother needn't worry (or know) about that now.

Still, sometimes, when it was hard to sleep, Gwen would wander around her small apartment's halls. When walking past the master bedroom, which only occupied a bed and wardrobe ("I don't need fancy furniture! Besides, I'm barely home," her mother reasoned, though both knew there wasn't enough pocket money for even a nightstand), a younger, more innocent Gwen would hear her mother sobbing over a picture of her late husband hugging his two kids.

Gwen being seven, and her brother, Micheal (whom Gwen called "Mikey" to get under his skin), being only a toddler, were wrapped in their father's arms. Neither were paying any attention to the camera, Anthony staring at something offscreen and Gwen playing with a stuffed animal. On the days she missed her husband most, the goth's mother would look at the photo and sob.

_"I try to be strong, and raise our kids while keeping the place, but it's so hard John." _Her mother would say between sniffles. _"I miss you. I wish you were here. Goodnight, my love." _

Over the years, these conversations with the photograph ceased, but sometimes Gwen would wake late in the night, overhearing cries from the other room through the thin walls of her neglected, cheap apartment.

. . .

Sometimes Gwen could get lost in her thoughts of her past, her train of thought making several unexpected turns and stops. However, her phone vibrating dragged Gwen back to her reality. A text from Leshawna awaited her.

Her friendship with Leshawna was odd to say the least. They were opposites, and unlike majority of the friendships in her grade, the African-Canadian's friendship with the teal-streaked haired girl had only been alive for three or so years. Still, they could count on each other to be there in the other's hour of need. Well, mostly.

_**Leshawna:** what's up girl?_

**_Gwen: _**_nothing much, you? _

**_Leshawna:_**_ just that dumbass social studies project. _

**_Gwen: _**_we got assigned that three weeks ago? why are you doing it now?_

**_Leshawna:_**_ hellooooo? where you been, girl? gwen, meet my procrastination. procrastination, gwen._

**_Leshawna:_**_ anyway, you think you could drop by to help?_

**_Gwen:_ **_as much as i would adore spending my afternoon researching greco/roman shit, cant. mom's at the diner and mikey has a friend over. _

**_Leshawna:_**_ le sigh. talk to you later, girl. _

**_Gwen:_**_ i'll probably see you at heather's funeral. later_

Gwen, admittedly felt guilty lying to Leshawna. In a way, it wasn't a lie, as her mom was at work and her brother did have a sleepover, just not in the Willow household (if you could call the shaggy apartment a household). Instead, she had a date with Trent.

_Trent._ Just the name erupted a volcano of emotion through her veins; the green-eyed, kind guitarist had stolen her heart. Gwen adored him, but their relationship was a secret. It may sound Romeo-and-Juliet-like, but in reality, neither had the time (or energy) to deal with dates everyday like most couples, or to always have to be near the other. They had a public life, a private life, and most importantly, _a life._ They both had things to do and not enough time for a typical relationship.

Their friends (more like the entire grade) suspected the two liked each other, but that was all they were in their classmates eyes; admirers. So far, the couple have been going out for two years, give or take a few weeks, in secret. Only the two of them knew, and it was important for it to keep it that way.

Lost, once again, in her past (or was it her heart? She couldn't be sure), Gwen closed her eyes, smiling, remembering her date with Trent about a year ago.

. . .

_wawanakwa park, a year ago . _

_Gwen and Trent laid down on the grass beside each other, their fingers weaved together. It was nightfall, meaning they had the entire park to themselves; nothing but eachother's warmth and the cool wind against their faces was their company. _

_Most of their peers preferred the mall or the local movie theatre for dates, but not this couple. They were much different then the other couples, right down to the way the show their affection to where they have dates. Gwen and Trent preferred isolated and peaceful locations, where they could talk until the break of dawn. Of course, the privacy that was included in remote locations was a bonus. _

_The couple had decided to have a picnic under the stars, just talking about both everything and nothing. They talked about random things about themselves, from their favorite movie moments (_"It's cheesy, but the kiss at the end of that roadtrip movie? You know, the one with they guy and the three girls?" _Gwen had said.) to their favorite song ("_She Be Loved,"_ Trent had replied immediately.) Soon, it was so late at night that even the crickets were asleep. No one in their sleepy little town was awake, and Trent and Gwen loved it. _

_The couple had found themselves enveloped in a lazy and dreamy silence, just eyeing the stars while being wrapped up in each other. "Gwen?" Trent asked, his voice somewhat exhausted. "Mmm?" Gwen asked, turning her head up to him. Whatever Trent wanted to say, it was clearly important, because there was a slight hesitation. Gwen cupped his face in her hands, a very un-Gwen move. "You can tell me anything," she murmurs softly, brushing hair away from Trent's beautiful green eyes she loved so dearly. _

_"I love you," Trent said simply. He said it casually, as if the two had told it to each other everyday, but still with so much love and care. That was all Gwen felt right then; love. The whole world had simmered away and disappeared in a nanosecond, the only thing that mattered to her was the way Trent looked at her and the way he held her hand against his cheek. The only thing she saw was Trent, the boy she had helplessly fallen in love with. _

_Gwen loved the way Trent saw beauty and patience in everything. She loved the way his eyes would light up in excitement when someone would bring up his passion for music. She adored the cheesy and somewhat embarrassing things he does for her. She loved the late nights they spent together, the scent of coffee that filled their dates, the songs they would sing together. She loved being with him. _

_She loved him. Oh, she was so in love with him that it shocked her she could feel this way. Gwen was surprised at the raw emotion she could feel for someone else; for a _boy _of all she could love. __If you told her ten year old self - even herself from two years ago - that she'd fallen so deeply in love with a guy like Trent, she'd have laughed in your face. For who could ever learn to love a woman like her?_

_But here Trent was, looking down on her with those gorgeous green eyes covered with love and affection. For what felt like the first time, in a long, long time, Gwendolyn Willows smiled. _

_"I love you too," she says just above a whisper, and the couple began making out 'till dawn. _

_. . . _

As if it had happened ten minutes ago, Gwen blushed furiously at the memory. Yes, she had _emotions_, but she didn't like to showcase them for everyone to see. Interrupting her thought process (fortunately, before she had launched herself in more nostalgic daydreams), Gwen heard her phone chime - _again. _Gwen opened the notification so she could see who it was bothering her this time. _"Speaking of the devil," _Gwen thinks when she sees it's a text message from no other than the boy of the hour, Trent.

_**Trent: **Hey Gwen! Do you think we could meet up at Bittersweet at 8:00 instead of 5? I need to catch up on that social studies project. _

_**Gwen: **ugh, you too? leshawna is just starting hers! am i the only one who does things on time? _

_**Trent: **Willing to bet the smartasses like Noah and Courtney finished weeks ago and are itching to turn it in. _

_**Gwen: **true, and the dumbasses, aka duncan, ezekiel, and not to forget the entire grade hasn't even started yet. _

_**Trent: **Yeah! Anyway, 7 good?_

_**Gwen: **definitely. good luck _

_**Trent: **See you!_

Gwen shut off her phone with a sigh. Not a sad one, more like a "I-have-three-hours-to-spare-and-nothing-to-do" kind of sigh. With a grunt, Gwen swings her legs off the side of her bed, standing up, her joints cracking like fireworks. She'd find _something_ to do; she was sure of it.

. . .

If your definition of "something" included going through old yearbooks and slightly crying, then ding-ding! Gwen had occupied herself until 7:30 had rolled around and she had to get ready to head out.

As Gwen changed into a different set of clothes, Gwen herself seemed to be in a different place. Today and its - well, for lack of better word, _events _\- Gwen knew she wasn't the only one who would be haunted by the past today. She knew, just knew, that her classmates would be doing stupid things like drinking themselves stupid, crying the snot out of their noses, getting angry and destroying things, or possibly a combination and a one man show of all three. It was difficult looking at all the young and innocent faces of her peers before they, well, grew up.

It was before they were slammed with college applications and jobs to work. Before the force of peer pressure had rolled over them like a wave, before drugs had hypnotized them. Back then, they looked at the world with such wonder and _hope _in their eyes, like their world was as magical as a place like Oz or Wonderland. Back then, they had nothing to fear except for the monster under their beds and the dark shadows in their rooms.

But then, the world had slammed on them full force, like one walking into a brick wall.

Parents divorced and cheated left and right. Lies haunted the streets of their town. People died and got hurt with nothing to do about it. Some people hid themselves from it, wishing, dreaming, _dying_ to go back to the innocent world of child-like wonders. However, some people like Gwen toughened up and fought every battle. They dealt with school and the jerks that attended, sheltered their emotions away and were the price of despair.

Who knew growing up in such a small, loving town could be so _miserable?_

Who knew it was so awful it made the Queen B knock _herself_ off her throne? ("_Supposedly,_" Gwen thought to herself, smirking slightly.)

Her thoughts are interrupted again ("_Seriously, can't I just think in peace?_" Gwen questioned to herself) when the doorbell rang. Quickly, Gwen decomposed her previous thoughts and took one last glance in the full body mirror stashed in a corner of Gwen's small room.

Gwen, in honor of her goth lifestyle, wore fishnet stockings and black heels. She wore a teal (surprise!) skirt above it, not clubbing short but not hippie long. A black shirt that dipped slightly clung to her skin with a black leather jacket resting on top. To finish the outfit, she had a - you guessed it - teal baseball cap sitting on her head. Gwen, of course, had her signature teal lipstick that matched her dyed hair (can you guess what color? 50 points to Gryffindor if you said _teal!_) and her mascara didn't look half bad. Worried she had kept Trent waiting for too long, Gwen quickly grabbed her wallet, keys and phone and got the hell out of her own home that didn't feel one bit like home.

. . .

At Bittersweet, Gwen and Trent had gotten a small table tucked away near the back of the restaurant, but around other people. If they sat alone, attention would be drawn to them and they could possibly be caught. The two teenagers chatted away animatedly about some trending cat video. Gwen scolded herself silently for enjoying conversation about such a cliche thing.

Bittersweet was owned by none other than Mrs. Kennedy, their classmate DJ's mother. As a mother, she had the clean but sweet look to the café that everyone loved. It was never almost empty, filled with people streaming in and out while grabbing their favorite treats and beverages. It was very inviting and made people feel automatically at ease. The people of this small, crowded town adored Bittersweet.

Of course, time flew by rapidly, and Gwen lost track of time. Soon, ten o' clock - "_Or 'Broken O' Clock'_," Gwen thought bitterly - was approaching fast, _too_ fast for Gwen's liking. She wanted to spend the next hudddled in Trent's arms.

But damn, when she looked into Trent's dazzling eyes she nearly collapsed. They were calculating, thinking, trying to read Gwen. Without meaning to, Gwen blurted out the question that unlocked Trent from his trance. "What are you thinking?" She asks. Gwen reaches across the table and grabs her lover's hands.

Trent looks into her charcoal-gray eyes. "What are _you_ thinking?" He rebuttals. This is definitely not the answer Gwen was expecting. "What do you mean?" She asks slowly, unsure of the sudden turn of events.

"Gwen, Heather died today," Trent said. His voice was an odd mixture of blunt and shaking. Gwen involuntarily shuddered when she remembered the woman's corpse. "And?" Gwen asked breathlessly, as if it didn't concern her entirely, or like her opinion on the matter didn't, well, matter. At that word, Trent raised one of his eyebrows at her, which made Gwen inexplicably nervous. "_Goddammit_," the platter thought. "_He can read me like a damn magazine,_"

"She kind of tormented you for years. Plus, everyone has been in the same class since first grade. We've grown somewhat like a makeshift family." Trent said, rubbing one of his hands on the back of his neck, one of his habits. In a odd way, Gwen realized, he was right. Deep down, and I mean _deep, _deep down, everyone in her class _was_ family. They had been there when her father died, before the world warped some of them to become twisted and cruel. They had, in reality, always been there, and they had always had found an odd sense of comfort and care through each other. It was inexplicable, but undeniable nor inevitable.

Gwen felt a pang in her chest like when she had seen the awful sight of Heather's body laying lifeless on the sidewalk. She had remembered that in the second grade, their entire class had went to the highschool to draw positive messages for the graduating class using chalk. In a horror stricken moment, Gwen realized that where Heather Hampton's body laid was the exact spot she had drew with chalk all these years ago.

Was it possible that small detail had an importance? Was it symbolic? What had Heather wrote? Gwen didn't know, and she wasn't sure she did.

Of course, a sharp noise brought her back to the present, leaving Trent's question unanswered.

Gwen and Trent, out of habit, whipped their heads to the direction the noise came from. A blonde duo, a female and a male, had walked into the café, but the couple couldn't see their faces. They two stood at the counter and ordered whatever they were having at this time.

_Look away._ Gwen's instincts screamed. _Look away right now before you regret it. _

Gwen ignored her conscience, and to know one's surprise (including her own), she immediately regretted it.

The pair of blondes felt the couple's stares at their backs. The female turned around, and upon seeing who it was, her jaw dropped in surprise. "Gwen and Trent?"

. . .

Trent and Gwen now stood with Geoff and Bridgette, who were the people who had walked in at such a strange hour. Despite how much she hated it, Gwen engaged in small talk.

"So," Gwen begins awkwardly. "What brings you guys here?" Bridgette raised an eyebrow and uncontrollably looked between the former and her date, as if her eyebrow was taunting the sentence "_I could say the same about you,_". Gwen quickly answered her unspoken question. "We were both free and figured we could hang out together. It's not a date," Gwen explained somewhat defensively.

"Mhmm," Bridgette hums disbelievingly, clearly not believing Gwen. However, she didn't push it. "Alejandro - and, everyone, really - was feeling a bit lonely, so we decided to sleep over at Alejandro's. We just stopped by to pick up sweets and coffee." Bridgette explains.

Being the social, including guy he was, Geoff asked on a whim, "Do you guys want to come with?"

This didn't faze or bother Trent or Bridgette, as Trent had accepted happily, but Gwen was a little unsure. Would it be wise to leave with little to no notice? What about her mother? Would Leshawna mind? Were Geoff and Bridgette's other friends - the more rude and snappish ones - were they planning something out of spite? Out of a petty, unofficial feud between her and Heather? Or were Bridgette and Geoff (and their friends) just being nice?

"I don't know," Gwen says slowly but truthfully. "I don't know if I should ditch my mom..." Gwen trails off, only dishing one of her concerns.

"It's fine," Trent reassures her. "You can go to your house with Geoff and Bridgette, pick up your things and then convince your mom to stay the night at Alejandro's while I go to my house and get my things."

Geoff and Bridgette nod reassuringly. "It'll be fine, I promise," Geoff said. Bridgette smiled reassuringly.

Gwen sighed. There really wasn't a reason for her to say no now. "Guess I'm going with you guys," She says, nodding to Geoff and Bridgette. She waves Trent goodbye, and soon she's giving her address to Bridgette as Geoff peels out of the parking lot.

"_I'm in for a long, long night,_" Gwen thinks with a mental sigh.

. . . **tbc**

_**aftermath: **_

_ugh, FINALLY! a week after my last chapter, i had finished this chapter as i knew the next weeks i'd be busy, and guess what happens! the document gets deleted. nearly screamed. anyway, slowly but surely, i have rewritten the entire chapter, and it's quite long, so i'm sorry if it took a__while to read. _

_also! lover (the album) by taylor swift dropped so you better stream it! hopefully i'll have the next chapter up soon. _

_leave a review if you wish, _

_z :)_


	6. Update: No, I'm Not Quitting

Hey there!

Sorry for the awfully long wait, time really flies. I promise I haven't ditched this or any of my other works - in fact, so many AUs and writing ideas are always circulating my mind, including the two works I have on here.

I felt like I've left my five readers in the dark for awhile about what my plans are for _Suicidal_, so I figure I should update you guys on what the deal is. As the title says, no, I am not leaving or quitting or anything along those lines, but I'm actually striving to improve my writing in this story. People have comforted me, saying that I wasn't being ignorant to some of the mature things I write about, but I feel like I am! This story feels like a romanticized _13 Reasons Why_, and that definitely isn't a good thing. I feel as if the line between this story being a regular, light-hearted and witty story and a suspenseful mystery is incredibly blurred.

This idea, among many others, have never left my mind since I last updated. I swear. I'm beginning to rewrite _Suicidal_ from the way beginning, which I'll either attach to this or make an entirely new work, I haven't decided.

Long ago, I promised a chapter a month. I can't promise anything now - my writer's block comes and goes as it pleases, and I have many things to keep up with in my life, including the ever-going battle against procrastination. I can't guarantee even finishing this story, since life is insane, and let's be honest - I'm writing TD fanfiction when I was only a few months old when TDI even aired. That's probably not a good thing. (This isn't me discouraging your likes/dislikes whatsoever, I just want to be honest. Love what you love shamelessly unapologetically.) I can promise, however, I am not ditching this story anytime soon.

With all this chaos and lockdowns happening across the world, expect an update (rewrite of chapter one, and trust me, I've only completed three portions of the entire thing so far, and it is already a humongous improvement) sometime soon, but with all that said, stay safe, wash your hands, and stan Mr. Coconut.

With love, Z


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